


getting ready

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Director Daisy Johnson, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Older Man/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Suit Kink, Vaginal Fingering, cousyfest2k17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:32:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Coulson helps Daisy choose a suit for her new job.(Written for the Cousy Fest 2017 - prompt: "Director Daisy Johnson")





	

“Thank you for doing this,” she says, absently browsing through the racks of black jackets.

“No problem.”

He’s made sure they closed the shop for her, like in the good old days, when SHIELD had considerably more power than now, but he is beginning to suspect that was a bad move, and that all the fuss is only stressing Daisy more. He had wanted her to have some quiet, and also avoid anyone recognizing her. He regrets it now. He thinks she is even more in a hurry to finish, knowing the shop is entirely at her disposal. 

“Take your time,” he tries to nudge her into relaxing.

She frowns at her options, looking a little smaller than usual among the (mostly for men) suits. Coulson has seen Daisy take on dozens of Watchdogs, a murderous robot and even recently an alien bounty hunter, all without hesitating, yet she looks like the task of choosing a new suit for her debut tomorrow is more than she can handle.

“I didn’t know being Director of SHIELD involved so much shopping for clothes,” she confesses to him, with a weary sigh.

“That’s one good thing about being Director when SHIELD was underground… I didn’t have to worry about this stuff.”

Daisy snorts. “That and the fact that you already owned a thousand suits by the time you got this gig.”

He gives her an amused smiled. “Yeah, that too.”

It’s like thinking about a different person, that Coulson who held onto things like fancy suits and rules. Not because he doesn’t care about clothes anymore. He taught himself to care about clothes, the habit is going nowhere. But he can’t imagine caring so much. Or maybe he never cared that much, but back in the day his life was full of distractions like these suits, and not many things that were real, real like the woman he is helping with the shopping today.

“Was this the store you normally used?” she asks. “Before…?”

“We had a couple, but the other one was Hydra.”

Daisy winces at his answer.

“Sorry.”

She disappears into the changing rooms and Coulson makes small talk with the owner in the meantime. He’s probably disappointed with Coulson’s more casual look these days. He tries to explain he’s no longer the Director but to no avail. “Demotion is not a reason for carelessness,” he gets told. Coulson smiles, because he would never think about this as a demotion.

When Daisy comes back she’s wearing a sober piece, dark grey. Coulson likes the color but he knows Daisy is worried she looks too young for a Director of SHIELD. Even more so because she’s a woman, even more so because she isn’t white. She doesn’t have to say, but all those things are running through her mind as she inspects the suits.

She looks gorgeous, of course. She always looks gorgeous, which a thought Coulson doesn't allow himself too often. He always felt he was doing wrong by her, if he saw her in that kind of light. Especially after Ward, after someone she was supposed to trust and be safe with, turned out to have that kind of designs on her. Since him, looking at Daisy like that would have been a betrayal.

But she looks different with the suit, powerful in a new way. If Coulson is honest (and for this one tiny confusing moment, he is) she looks exactly like the kind of person he would normally be attracted to. And she is his boss now, which means he doesn’t have to consider the implications for her position in SHIELD. 

“It's a good one,” he says, trying to get back on track. He's here to help her, not think about her objective attractiveness.

Daisy shrugs, giving the shop owner a sideways glance. “I'm not sure about it…”

Even though the store is closed for her Coulson can see how uncomfortable she is doing this in front of strangers.

“Why don't you pick two or three outfits and try them on back at the base? Sleep on it if you need to,” he suggests, trying to just get her out of here.

Daisy lights up, like he has just done her a huge, unthinkable favor. Coulson feels guilty about enjoying her expression.

Together they pick three (a gray one, a blue one and the black one Coulson suspects is Daisy's favorite) and leave the place within a few minutes.

 

+

 

When she comes out of the bathroom Coulson is obediently still sitting on her bed, as she left him, and it occurs to Daisy that she doesn’t remember having friends she could do this with, not past the orphanage years (and the nuns didn’t let them have many clothes - something about Jesus not wanting girls to be too _conceited_ \- so she and the other girls didn’t have much chances to play runway models). It’s nice. It’s nice having him there and smile kindly at her when she comes out wearing this suit Daisy is sure is way too classy for her. Coulson has better taste in clothes than anyone she knows, so there’s also that. Nice _and_ helpful.

“Does this suit say Director of SHIELD?” she asks as she walks back into the room.

She is wearing the black suit, which was the one she liked in the shop. But she couldn’t really think back there.

“Your face says Director of SHIELD,” Coulson tells her.

“I’m serious.”

“It does. It’s perfect, and perfectly professional.”

“You must think I’m an idiot,” Daisy says, fidgeting with the hem of her jacket, straightening even though it’s fine as it is. “Worrying about meaningless stuff when I’m so not ready for all the important bits.”

“You are ready. I believed you were ready ten months ago. I believe it now.”

“You only said that because I saved you from spending the rest of your life in a really vivid adaptation of _1984_ put on by a crazy robot. You’re kind of biased.”

She thinks he has always been a bit biased when it comes to her, and it has cost him a lot.

Coulson stands up and walks up to her. He has that face - Daisy knows that face; he’s probably going to say or do something nice. He grabs her by the shoulders. Shakes her gently.

“Stop worrying,” he says. He’s half smiling, like he knows everything will be fine.

Daisy trusts him. Everything will be fine then.

“Okay,” she nods. “I’m very ready and very professional.”

She looks down at her clothes, to check that this is the right choice. Coulson follows her gaze as well, over the jacket and the skirt.

He looks at her in a strange way.

Not strange as in bad or weird. Strange as in _new_.

“Coulson. Are you checking me out?” Daisy asks, joking.

Which, would be okay. Because it's Coulson. She knows men see her and assume stuff, but Coulson has always made her feel valued, all of her. Sure, he's like twenty years older but it's not gross with him. He'd never… Ward was young and he made her feel dirty all over, like there was something wrong with her. Coulson thinking she is hot? It doesn't make her feel unsafe. It's kind of cool, actually.

Meanwhile Coulson is not really answering or reacting. He still has her shoulders in a loose grip and he's looking at her. But like all of her all the same time, not parts of her, as if his eyes were enough to take in her whole being with just one glance.

Daisy searches his vibrations for a clue of what is going on with him. She's never felt this kind of vibe from him, she doesn't really recognize it. They're deep vibrations, and dark, but not in a bad way, more like something quiet that's waiting for the light.

“What are you doing?” she asks again.

He focuses on her face, something sharp in his expression. Daisy can feel a shiver and suddenly the possibility that Coulson thinks she's hot is more than just kind of cool.

“Appreciating the director’s new suit,” he replies, his eyes moving to her neck and chest. His voice sound different, like he has been drinking. But Daisy knows he hasn't because they have been together all day.

“Is that all you’re appreciating?” she says, playing a game of flirt chicken she’s pretty sure Coulson knows nothing about. Maybe she’s playing against herself.

“I don’t know,” he admits.

He sounds genuine but then his hands go to her neck and her hair and he tugs her against him and kisses her. 

Daisy never imagined that Coulson’s kisses would be like this; not because she thought he lacked passion or that he was a boring guy, but she imagined his kisses would be all romantic and classy, like he is. But this is messy, the kiss is all hungry and greedy and needy, beyond what Daisy is used to - and she is an expert on kissing people in desperate circumstances. He opens her mouth, thumb hot on her chin, and pushes his tongue inside. Their teeth meet. Daisy loses track of how long he kisses her, that first time. She’s breathless, but that could mean anything.

He gives her a confused look when he pulls away, as if Daisy was the one who attacked his mouth and not the other way around. He’s shocked, pressing the tips of his fingers against his lips like he is trying to savour it all again. He must decide that’s not enough because he pulls her hard against his chest against for a second kiss.

So the first time wasn’t an accident, then.

She stops being shocked by the fact that Phil Coulson is kissing her, stops just enough to realize how being kissed by Phil Coulson (Agent Coulson, Coulson, AC, _Director, sir_ , Phil, her friend) actually feels. It feels… so good.

So good and so unbelievable that it's actually happening.

She’s the Director of SHIELD. It’s a brave new world. If that can happen, anything can happen. Even _this_.

She starts kissing him back and that's a lot better. Coulson slows down and lets her take the lead for a moment, opens up to let her explore. She rests her hands against his chest, experimentally, and he drops his to her shoulders again, drawing her in. She touches the back of his neck, she likes that spot when kissing someone, and Coulson’s hair is all crisp and well-groomed, she runs her hand upwards and over the nice evenness of his haircut. Distracted, she almost misses the moment when Coulson grabs her by the hips, cupping her ass through the fabric of her expensive Directorial new suit. His hands tear a pleased moan from the back of her throat. Coulson stops, peeling her away from him. 

Is it over? Daisy wonders. Is that all? A little disappointed at the idea.

Then Coulson makes her sit on the bed, grabbing her by the shoulders. The touch at the same time very gently but very firm. He’s never touched her like this before. His hands wrap around her thighs and he tugs her to the very edge of the mattress. She’s not sure what he means by that (which says a little too much about Daisy’s imagination, or lack of thereof) until Coulson drops to his knees and positions himself between her legs. She fights the impulse to blush, a piece of bullshit Catholic propaganda telling her this is wrong in the back of her mind.

Coulson pulls the skirt over her thighs, patiently at first, but then he seems to change his mind and just twists the fabric around his fingers and tugs until the clothes are bunch around Daisy’s hips. The suit is probably ruined now or it’s going to need so hardcore ironing and for some reason proper, classy Phil Coulson not giving a shit about that makes her skin heat up. She’s beginning to swear quite a bit in her own head, her own thoughts, but the feel of Coulson’s hands over her legs call for a new kind of vocabulary. He does away with her underwear even faster, fingers hooked around the elastic band and pulling, lifting her legs to slip the panties of her.

She is not used to this stuff, but she’s always felt safest with Coulson, so it’s not complicated to let go of her usual drive to take control when it comes to sex. On the other hand Coulson seems to have gotten over his initial indecision and that makes Daisy feel warm and sharp at the edges, validated.

She still gasps at his hands pushing her legs apart and Coulson looks up, a second of doubt, until Daisy nods. A good gasp, she tries to morse-code with her nervous smile, definitely a good gasp.

“Fu-” she bites her bottom lip just in time to swallow the rest of the word. He could have given her some warning before just burying his face between her legs. She’s sure she can feel Coulson’s smirk against her when he realizes how wet she is already. Fuck, she thinks, just thinks, this time.

“Lie down,” Coulson tells her. His voice sounds thick, lower than usual. He has never spoken to her like this before. He must be excited too, and perhaps that shouldn’t surprise Daisy but it does.

She does what the low, lovely voice tells her and lies on her back. It’s easier this way, he knew that. Daisy feels herself melting into his mouth as soon as he touches her, which is a bit embarrassing, actually, the way she writhes and slides her body closer so he can have better access, this unusual impatience she can feel in her bones. He slides right in, his tongue feeling big and perfect, or so she thinks, until he also pushes his index finger into him, and okay, _that_ is perfect.

Should you be having something this good? What’s the price of this? Are you fucking up the best friendship in your life? You know you don’t deserve him, don’t you. Daisy pushes all the usual thoughts away and maybe because her whole body has gone liquid but these doubt part easily like a veil she has to draw aside, a veil between her and Coulson’s mouth, Coulson’s tongue, Coulson’s fingers, Coulson’s love for her.

“Yes, like that,” she mutters, more like an encouragement for herself, but she notices his left hand holding on to her knee tighter, like he needs anchoring too.

Coulson doesn’t seem to give a fuck about taking slow right now, and all he seems to care about is getting Daisy off as quick as he can (god, she freaking loves the man). He pushes a second finger inside (god, he’s perfect).

His fingers feel so good (she’s repeating herself at this point, she knows) but she can’t help wondering what if would feel like if he used his prosthetic. She immediately feels guilty about it, like she is a freak or something, or like she is insulting his disability, like it’s a fetish or something. She would want him to feel good about it, like he could always touch her, with every part of him. He can always touch her, does he know that? God, Daisy wants him to be touching her all the time, now that she knows.

“Relax,” the voice between her legs says, now sounding amused and complicit and more like Coulson than the low, dark voice, even though she likes both. Daisy realizes he is right, she has clenched around him a bit, lost in complicated thoughts. She gets back to the nice place she was before, easier because Coulson has started biting gently on the skin around her clit. His hand and mouth move slowly over her hair, teasing.

She is not good at sexy talk so she just says “please” a lot as she feels her body slip from complete control, shivering when Coulson picks up the rhythm. Her own vibrations echo under her skin, traveling like a second bloodstream. Daisy can hardly remember what it felt like having sex before her powers, because it’s so different, it’s hard to believe there was a time her body wasn’t doing this.

As her body build up to orgasm the absurdity of it come back; that this is Coulson - her Coulson - between her legs, his fingers inside her, his tongue drawing circles around her clit. It’s impossible and yet… this is real. She’s been in enough unreal places to tell the difference. It turns her on even more, how little chance there was of this ever happening, of two people like her and Coulson…

Suddenly he pulls his fingers out and it’s all his mouth, his tongue, inside her again, and she comes.

She goes very silent when it happens, but her throat burns with his name. Her thoughts have gone all fuzzy and soft and unrealistic because she thinks she might want him to make her scream some day.

Now Coulson is stroking her knees and thighs, careful not to go too high, helping her come down. a pathetic admission but it’s been a long time since Daisy’s come so hard, even longer since she’s come so hard with anyone else in the room at the same time.

She covers her face instinctively, with her arms, to hide her expression immediately after. 

“Daisy,” a voice calls her name. Then gentle fingers find her hands, drawing them away, like telling her she has nothing to be embarrassed about.

It takes her a couple of minutes to be able to sit up on the bed, Coulson helping her by retrieving her underwear and pulling down her skirt in a semblance of modesty.

“I’ve got to get a couch for my office,” she teases. Coulson is smiling and it occurs to her that she might be assuming too much. “I mean, if this is something you’d want to repeat.”

“Sure, but maybe not _immediately_ ,” he says, sitting on the bed next to her and rubbing his legs. “My knees are going to need some recovery time.”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean,” Coulson nods.

He takes her head between his hands and moves his mouth over hers. The kiss is so different from everything that has gone on between them before. It feels more like Daisy always imagine Phil Coulson would kiss, very well and very romantic. But she’s glad there’s still an edge here, it’s still a bit messy. She can taste her own arousal on his tongue. This time she loses track of time as well, happy to just be making out with her former boss on her bed.

Anything is possible indeed.

When they stop their faces are so close and Daisy doesn’t want to be parted from him ever again.

“Okay, but I’m the Director now,” she says. “I don’t want to be abusing my power or taking advantage or…”

Coulson smiles.

“What?”

“I just realized how many times I worried about that myself,” he says. “And used that worry as an excuse to deny what I felt for you.”

“You feel stuff for me?” Daisy asks, feeling her cheeks burn incomprehensibly.

 _He_ rolls his eyes.

“Yeah sorry.” And she mimics his gestures and grabs his hand, kissing him with the trembling uncertainty of being the one starting something now.

“If you still worried we can go to HR first thing tomorrow, come clean about this,” he tells her. 

“Is that what you do when you _feel stuff_ for a colleague?” she asks, a bit teasingly.

Coulson shrugs. “I think so,” he says. “I’ve never done this before.”

Something about the confession touches her. It seems to make them closer, somehow. And Coulson looks a bit troubled by this admission, as if he’s not so sure what to do now, like he really didn’t think it through before he dropped to his knees and went down on her. He runs one hand flat against the front of his shirt. It reminds Daisy why they are in her room in the first place.

She looks down at her skirt. It’s pretty obvious that her clothes just had sex. Daisy feels a bit proud of this.

“Well, I’ve never been Director of SHIELD before,” she tells him. “But I think we’re ready.”

He lift his head in surprise, eyes wide like Daisy has said something very nice and very surprising. They have always been a “we”, he shouldn’t be shocked at all.

“Yes,” he nods, finding his confident, gentle, cocky voice. “We’re ready.”


End file.
